Cita moris ruit - if a glance into glowing green eyes shows the future
by JO89
Summary: The world went back to normal. Even 25 years after Voldemort's death there was no human being like him. The people enjoyed peace, freedom and life anyway. They had nearly forgotten, how it felt to fight for something important. Well, nearly... Because "All was well." didn't last forever... more genres: Darkfic, Hetero


**A/N** This story exists since summer 2008 and is near and dear me, never mind that it took two years of starting it writing and two more translating it.

**Disclaimer:** I neither owe Harry Potter nor do earn money with it. Writing fan-fictions is just a hobby of mine.

**The tiresome talking point about reviews: **They are desirable, welcomed und they do lift my spirits immensely.

One more thing before beginning the whole thing: I racked my brain for a long time to find a way how to start. Primarily I wanted that the world was like the last sentence "All was well." The dark side should grow slowly and make itself felt. But the longer I worked out the story, the characters, their fates and experiences, the more inappropriate it became to start the story this way. I didn't really like it at all, this beginning of _everything's fine_. So, I wish pleasure with the "bad guys".

And if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes, I'm terribly sorry, English isn't my mother tongue. Btw I'm looking for a beta reader.

P.S. The main story will play in the year 2023, but I don't believe that suddenly the black danger appears out of thin air. So here we go…

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**Chapter 1 – without heart**

_"Peace will be missing in this world as long as there are people."_

Deep under the ground in December 2021, something budded for a long time again, one wish, one plea, some hope – miles away from England, from Europe, far afield in the south - kept it secret from the heat, the warmth, the joy, that would be able to affect a heart. A man created a book, in which he wrote everything, his experiences, his discoveries, his plans for future, but he didn't write about love, he didn't find the right words, it wasn't necessary either, because he didn't need this feeling, it didn't exist. Love was the emotion, he didn't want. He aspired after other things – power.

In dim candlelight he spent several hours within his walls, in his self-created prison, with his life, which he never wanted to live it this way. Although he decided in favour of it, he couldn't help. It was his destiny, a liability, a burden, that he had accepted, since no other person would wear it, and certainly not for him.

Now, he was sitting as so often on his chair at his ebony desk and with his feather he committed everything to writing, which was important for him, being worth to record it.

"Tell me, that you don't become blind in that darkness is a miracle!" He listened to the well-known male voice behind him, after the creek of the old, brittle wooden door had hushed.

"Have you ever heard from the word knocking, Mad? Where are your manners?" delivered the man his guest calmly, put his feather aside and stood up, looking still at his book.

"Pardon, but you're down here alone anyway. So, whereby should I disturb you?" answered the company soundlessly and knocked three times at the still standing open door afterwards, before he totally came in.

"So, you aren't scared to catch me with some lady visitor?" asked the man grinning mischievously and looked at his new visitant for the first time, while he crossed his hands behind his back.

"You aren't me," a drily response followed.

No, the man was unlike his guest, in no way. Apart from the external differences which plain and simple are called genetic strain, the guest, who's named Mad, was known for loving, charity and self-love – an open-minded bloke with loads of patience. That was something, which was admirable and enviable, if there were still such disinterested, selfless people like Mad, who forgave every mistake all too fast – so was the mind of the counterpart. – No? Was this even desirable?

"I haven't a heart as big as the world either, Mad," hissed the man quietly and glanced at his guest warily. And then the wide open door snapped shut.

"D, sometimes, I really don't have the foggiest idea, what's wrong with you. Every other person in your position would be happy or at least pleased," after a heavy sigh followed Mad's carefully thought-out answer. He was the man who ruffled through his red hair, because it hung in his face. And it didn't escape the guest's notice that glare of D, but he resumed calmly: "I think you'll be soon in the position to change the world."

The man looked once again to his book and with pleasure he was aware of it, how it closed on its own and crumbled into dust. Yes, he wanted to shift the world, form it according to his own wishes. And he would put everyone in their place, who tried to get in his way. A demoniac smirk flashed over his lips and he laid his hand on the back of his chair.

"D, where has your heart gone? You've become so violent-tempered." The man heard his old friend asking caringly.

"I don't occupy one. By this time, you should have known it," he countered recklessly and looked at Mad with a more ugly countenance. So his guest could hardly keep one new sigh under.

"Is it really worth doing it?" the man with heart asked, although he knew the reply already. D nodded faintly and stared at the table surface, on which a map carved in wooden appeared. His fingers touched gingerly the uncharted countries' frontiers, rivers, lakes and federal states.

"He underestimated me, a fatal fault. So, seventeen years long I had time to prepare my counterstroke. He had the power to enslave me, but he wasn't able to beat me. He had it to rack me too, but wasn't able to bend me. He will see the world in broken fragments, at least it will end," D murmured satisfied and slapped his friend Mad who was in the same age, on the shoulder. "You can't stop me either."

There was nothing to worry about in the world, if you knew the future. Coincidentally, it was akin to hell, because it was the assurance, which you went with through the life. Neither able to obstruct it, nor only to change.

"Should I repeat my question?" D listened to his cool-headed friend, who made it to grin sincerely, despite those much information was hard to digest, which were just revealed.

"Of course," D muttered and he couldn't stop himself from a hate-filled burst of laughing. It was the first time in awhile that Mad really bothered about the man besides him. For a long time Mad had thought because of talking and trust, like real friendship should be, his best friend would realise – no matter when – that there was for him something like love too. Love, he'd always meet again and that he'd savour every single moment. Love, he wouldn't want to hold, neither to couch in terms, nor writing it down, but maybe storing it in the heart with the beautiful memories of life. Because somewhere, and Mad was sure of that, D had to have a heart.

But now, where a boa wiggled to them, right from this room's backmost corner, winding itself around D's leg, while he did nothing but laughing loudly and the glance of his so often grey eyes, which actually should be a reason to feel joy, because D saw life too seriously, the bad feeling of making a mistake caught up with Mad. D had become powerful and he, Mad, spectated at that without carrying about his own forces, or at least too less.

"I hope, you won't do anything you may regret later," muttered the redhead and smiled wryly.

"In Barsile's name, the worst of all snakes, no" D responded cheerfully and patted the snake almost fondly, which coiled around his middle. The map, carved into the desk, smoothed automatically, the cracks filled and D asked his best friend for: "Don't take it so hard. Rejoice about becoming father. Moreover you plan to marry. There are enough plans in life, you aim. So don't care that much about me and my odds and sods." Mad closed his eyes shortly and nodded weakly. Yes, he definitely wanted to tie the knot, the woman who he loved so deeply. And he hopped, D would recognise some day, that there was a girl in his life, or will be, that loved him unconditionally and would do it. A girl, for which Mad's best friend wouldn't feel less, and he hopped for D's speedy perception.

By the time Mad watched D's face again, his breath stuck. The eyes were glowing shiny unnaturally strong, unnaturally green.

"Don't gawp at me that way, in every human being there is something special," followed the rude remark of the redhead's counterpart and then D looked at the door. "My, my! Today there are a lot people visiting me..." muttered D pointedly as Mad and he heard and saw how the sneck was pulled down. A young woman with dark hair entered the room and asked confident,

"And what are these nasty plans you hatch down here again? Do you want to revive Voldemort?" She smiled at both, D and Mad.

"Something like that" answered the black haired man, D, smugly grinning.

"I leave you two alone with your black humour, because I have a date already." Mad bade goodbye, shaking hands with his friend and went to the exit. He nodded to the witch with the long curls and closed quietly the door as he left. It was like the floor had swallowed desk and chairs and instead this two cosy armchairs appeared and one salver with tea and cake flying in the air. D settled himself in one of them and took a scrutinizing look at his new guest.

"What have I done for having the honour of your visiting?"

At an easy pace the young woman walked up to him. She was definitely not afraid of snakes. Sitting on the armrest the witch put her pointer to his lips.

"I know you for a long time now. I'm aware of your purposes. Your mask can't be that resolutely to keep anything from me." A little pause ensued. She wanted to bring the words to bear.

She looked him in the eyes, the man with the shining green ones, which she was well up with nevertheless. "There is one thing, I know in any case: You want me" D heard her voice self-assuredly and he started grinning.

"You're cocksure of yourself, lass."

The witch threw a short glimpse to the door making sure they really were alone.

"Indeed, I'm not a Veela, but the Veela-gene running through your veins had neither worked nor impressed me. And only for your gen, I want a man with heart and mind, instead of a monster!" D crossed his arms and surveyed her strongly.

"Do you really believe I've wasted my Veela-Magic on you even once?" The curly wrapped her arms around his neck and bended forward to him a little.

"You would have done if it assured you making me to love you for the right reasons." Then, she shortly kissed D's lips very gently and smiled knowingly. D stopped breathing instantly; too profound was the shock that there still was one person being impertinently and irreverently. After all, he already had acquired renown. "You know, how you could get more of... this", she smiled and petted his cheek.

"And because of this I should be swept of my feet, am I right?" D hissed angrily and looked to the witch disgustedly, who stroke the snake's head.

"No, but the kiss should remind you of the things you could have if you behave well." Afterwards she stood up, just claimed to leave.

Though he gripped her wrist and pulled her back onto his lap.

"You know, why I'm doing it", murmured D calmly and his fingers slid underneath her top, rested on her waist.

"I'm not daft!" She muttered knowing that her face went bright red, "but you have to be clear about translating your plans into action you're possibly going to kill my family. And yours too." He laid his head onto the rest behind and whispered: "So what?"

The witch turned to him.

"I'm not able to adore a man who I mean such little to, who our fellow men mean nothing to him. You damage your families and friends. If you don't give in, I'll go."

The room lightened after a few minutes of silence, he said: "If I don't do it, we won't have any future."

"If you do, either," the witch answered stubbornly and took a look at him hopefully. The glowing in his eyes disappeared, the green stayed. "I don't need a heartless man." She asserted forcefully and desperation stole into her face expression.

"Well, I don't own one," D talked in a whisper unaffected and stroked her hair behind the ear.

"You've already gave it to me," she understood the broad hint and watched her feet embarrassedly.

But it was written in stone, the fact he wouldn't cast away his ideas. Therefore he invested too much time to not put these plans into operation. And so, it was a beginning after all, different than planned, but the end started, a little rift within the lute. Because she wouldn't leave him, the witch simply loved him too much and he knew it. D only had to propitiate the young woman sitting on his lap frequently. Basically he had her at his feet. And he wasn't the type of men who wanted a lot of women, when there was one giving him the feeling to be the only. No, he didn't talk about love. D never apperceived love and he never met a girl he wished to affirm anything pointless like love. – What's the point in having hormones? And what's about the witch... Yes, she hadn't found the sentences which affected or hinder him from his plans. The words which reached his heart and his wit weren't spoken yet.

_"Nothing in the life is earned, fair or given. Dreams pass. Pursued however in spiritspun and with diligence and sweat, these dreams find into reality."_


End file.
